


if tomorrow never comes

by bountifulsilences



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (i know), Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, No Angst, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), bucky and thor trying to send an email: disasterous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bountifulsilences/pseuds/bountifulsilences
Summary: Beneath the picture, Thor captioned: ha! This took us an hour to send!! My new friend James also struggles with your electronic mailing system!!!or the one, where Bucky helps Thor write an update to send to the Avengers, and to celebrate their success takes a picture which Thor attaches to the email. cue Steve receiving said email.





	if tomorrow never comes

**Author's Note:**

> for  hope  and  deen  bc....yall are stressed over exams so I want you to do even more reading. <3
> 
> this is based on tumblr post i can no longer find by peterssquill (thor meeting bucky and sending a picture of them to steve?) so i will need to look for that and update this then.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this nevertheless.

“Right this way, love, we just received a new stock for the latest issue of...”

Hands buried in his jacket and beanie concealing his horrifically greasy hair from view, he passed the reception desk. Eyes dedicated to the dirty green carpet, he followed the signs of bookshelves to a destination he was familiar with, visited as often as he could make himself. Computers, he thought to himself, so helpful.

The library wasn’t busy, never was (“weekdays are slow during school hours, kids are at school and these universities have everything. You’re best coming to us then, hun.”) so he ventured into the four walls when the risk of detection was the lowest. _Or the risk of aggression_. Could do what little research he needed to conduct and slither out of the sliding doors before anyone could recognise or talk to him.

However, nearing the computer he favoured he saw that his plan was fumbled for the day. For a man was sat three seats down, blonde locks intricately knotted into braids and dreadlocks, bracketing his face and hanging down his back. He wore ordinary clothes, clean, possibly fashionable but also perfect, camouflaging into the new aesthetic that had swept the streets. With a body so impressive, presence vast and bold, he had tried his hardest to disappear. Anyone who wished to vanish was not one Bucky could face.

Reluctantly, he walked to the desktop, inconspicuous but prepared, body thrumming with energy ready to expel for an escape. Should the man beside him want any trouble, he wouldn’t entertain it. He didn’t do that anymore. He didn’t-

Taking a seat, he logged into the server using his library card and took a glimpse of the strange, taken aback when he catalogued the features he saw. Was that Thor? Avenger and defender of the planet, an alien for the lack of better words. Swallowing, he turned back to the screen and hovered his mouse over the internet icon. It was.

This was a man known for his humility, mercy and kindness. Surely, _possibly, he_ couldn’t know who Bucky was. But even if he did, to oust him from life of privacy in which he lived? He would not. The stories were not fabrications, they were recollections of events that had occurred. Thor was the safest Avenger and the most ignorant, why would he know of Bucky? He had no reason to.

If the memories were true and his mind was recalling factual events, then Steve would not expose him. Couldn’t. The man had a thicker coat than the arctic wolves, to catch a look of what lay beneath the fur required persistence and experience. He was not made of stone, he spoke and revealed everything he hid in riddles. It was just as such that Bucky couldn’t understand them anymore.

So, from Thor he was safe. He had to be. It eased his anxiety, to know his identity and his safety was intact but it simmered, nonetheless. What ifs were undeniably possible, he couldn’t let his guard down. Should Thor try to interact, Bucky would-

“Excuse me, kind sir?”

He would reply, because his resolve was weak:

“Yeah?” he replied, voice gruff and eyes lingering on the computers occupying the space between them.

He could hear Thor’s grin. “I am struggling to operate your electronic mailing system, could you guide me through how to do it?”

And see, there was no one else present for him to direct Thor to. Nor could he ignore him, the guileless tone seeking aid and nothing more. Ultimately, the choice was undeniable and clear. He would have to help him.

“Uh, sure, I guess.” He, himself, was unsure of how to do it, struggled using the search engine despite his previous usage. Remembering was harder now, what would have taken one try now took three or four, it was what damage did he supposed.

“Thank you!” Thor exclaimed, and excitedly pulled out a chair next to him, welcoming Bucky.

Smiling tightly, Bucky accepted his invitation and nodded at him, drinking in the mirth and the gratefulness which appeared as genuine as it could be. An email, that was what he wanted to compose. How hard could it be?

As it turned out, extremely.

“No, no James it is ‘ThorSonOfOdin’, you must write it correctly-”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky said, “the email address doesn’t exist Thor. Are you sure it’s yahoo? Do you have the slip with you, let me check.”

Grumbling, Thor dug into his tightly fitted jeans and retrieved a small paper, writing inscribed onto it. They had been going through several email domains to find the correct one, but they had not reached success yet. During the time, they had revealed their names to each other and secured an acquaintanceship of some sort. He didn’t even know.

Obtaining the slip from his grasp, Bucky read it and closed his eyes hard when he had. He had gotten it all wrong. “Thor, it wasn’t even-”

“Ah yes, I see that now. Nevertheless, you can access it now, can you not?” Thor said, eager and apologetic.

He sighed. “I hope Iron Man knows that you don’t remember his email...thing…”

“He does,” Thor replied cheerfully, and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at it. He was a sincere man; it was hard not to.

Typing in Stark Industries, he opened the webpage where he read the word email, eyes skimming through the countless option that arose. Thor directed him to the correct one, so all was not lost. They were making progress. When the page loaded and it requested an email address, Bucky typed the one written on the slip, a simple [ThorOdinson@starkmail.com](mailto:ThorOdinson@starkindustries.com) and then went to the password.

Expectantly, he looked at Thor. “What is it?”

Easily, he grinned, smug. “Strongest Avenger.”

Denied.

“Thor Odinson.”

Denied.

“Thor, Son of Odin.”

Denied.

“Most powerful Avenger?”

All denied.

“Okay, clearly it’s none of these, so you got anything else? A nickname, maybe?” Bucky asked.

His eyebrows furrowed, hair scampering to the centre. “Well, Point Break but-”

Typing it in, he was unsurprised to see that it worked. Nodding at the screen, he said, “we’re in.”

Instantaneously, Thor stopped talking. Bucky knew the feeling. Thinking back to the days where he was incessantly called ‘piss bucket’ _“I’m going to piss bucket your face, Rogers-”_ he was no stranger to unwarranted nicknames. The future had not changed. Not in that respect, at least. It was comforting.

Moving the mouse around the screen, he said, “okay. Now. Email time.”

“To compose it we must go to...that! That icon there.” Bucky directed the mouse to where Thor’s finger rested. Clicking it, a document opened. “Yes, here it is. I knew that I could do it.” Bucky sent him a pointed stare. Chuckling, he amended, “that we could do it. James, you may not have been the most knowledgeable companion, but we did anyway. Come, let us celebrate.”

“Much better,” he said, “and okay, how?”

“A picture! To commemorate the moment,” Thor declared, already throwing an arm over Bucky and pulling him close. Taken aback, he stiffened, feeling the muscle around him shift and squeeze as they moved. _Just breathe Buck, you can easily escape; you’re safe_. “Now how do I…”

Choking slightly, Bucky offered, “try those small pictures at the bottom, maybe they can…”

“Oh yes, of course. Midgardian technology, so secretive. I always forget.”

Thor checked the tabs until he reached attachments and chose the feature for a live picture. Atop the screen rested a camera, and suddenly a red light emerged within it, signalling that it was operating. Gulping at it, Bucky nodded, an offering of peace. He didn’t do that anymore; he was a changed ma-

“When I tell you, you must smile. Now, smile,” Thor instructed, beaming at the camera, grin infused with the luminosity scavenged from the sun.

Delayed, Bucky managed to lift his beanie hanging above his eyes back just in time and enclosed in Thor’s arm he smiled at the camera, heart beating rampantly in his chest. This was going to Thor’s girlfriend, most likely. Possibly his other Avenger allies. Didn’t have to be Steve, he reasoned, it could be anyone. This was a busy man; he knew many people.

The picture clicked and appeared instantly on the screen. Bucky examined it, amazed. He looked awful, rougher than rough and disgusting beside Thor, who had no qualms about touching him despite his evident lack of hygiene. Yet, despite it, the picture was decent. It was great. It was the first one he had taken willingly in the new century. Corner of his lip lifting, he stared at it fondly.

“Not bad Thor, you look almost as good as me,” he teased, moving out of his grasp and back into his own space.

Thor laughed loudly. “I must know what your secret is, I could only wish for eyes so cosmic.”

Even though he knew it was a joke, Bucky’s chest blossomed. Was that how it felt, to be praised? He hadn’t known. It was an exhilarating feeling.

“Okay, you can write what you need to write, and we’ll send it off when you’re done. I’m just going to go back to my computer and do what I need to do,” Bucky said, already on the move and not waiting for a reply.

He got one anyway.

“Yes, that is well, until then James.”

Until then.

On his computer, he had to retype the password as it had locked him out and then finally opened the browser. Sparing a glance at Thor, he saw him type. When the search engine appeared, he searched for the names he couldn’t flee from in his mind. And the very first, belonged to Steve, it always did.

There was nothing worth reporting, no death or injuries or conflict. He had been spotted it seemed, but otherwise was laying low as they called it. Humming to himself, he swept an appreciative glance over Steve, noting that he was fine. He was okay. Pictures were Bucky he had, and some videos too. But hearing his voice was too painful- too overwhelming, so he strayed clear from them.

Next, he checked on Romanoff, he knew that she was being monitored by the state for actions committed by Red Room. By Hydra. But once again, there was nothing. Until he searched Hydra, that was, and there he saw multiple people in handcuffs, escorted by the police and faces blank from the shame that they should have held. Amongst them, he saw a familiar face.

Peter Smith. He often came to observe Bucky, funding significantly for whatever projects Hydra partook, fascinated with the asset and his missions. To see him once more sent chills down Bucky’s spine, provoked the bile in his stomach and threatened to suffocate him. But he was gone, arrested. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, let alone Bucky.

“James!”

Hastily he closed the tab. “Yeah?”

“Come, let us send the letter, I have finished.”

Taking in a deep breath, he nodded. Time to send the email.

Reclaiming the seat, he confirmed, “you done?”

Thor nodded. “I was informing my friends of the attack that occurred in London- dark elves, nasty species. The infinity stone resides in Asgard for now, and I plan to return home for some family business. Should they need me, it would be best to call upon Heimdall, he would contact me immediately.”

Bucky did not need to know that, but he nodded appropriately when he had to. Eyes scanning the email, he saw his picture with Thor at the bottom but chose not to read what it said. Ignorance was a bliss; did they not say? He baked in it.

“Okay, so click on that button to send. No, no that one- a little to left- yes, that one. And there you go, email sent.” He smiled, the gesture fake but necessary. If Thor caught him out on it, he didn’t say so.

“Thank you, it was a beautiful experience for us both. Now, I must take leave, my friend. Odin calls and I have ignored him long enough,” Thor said apologetically, “goodbye James.”

“Uh, yeah. Bye Thor,” he replied, confused but choosing not to unspool the web. The more he knew, the more he forgot.

To ensure he survived, he had to remember the most important information and Thor’s family was not part of it. Watching him leave, he sighed. At least one of them had one though.

 

* * * *

 

Steve had been polishing his shield when the notification came through. Sprawled on his lap was the painted weapon, glistening under the lights that soared from above. Recognising the sound, he beckoned Jarvis, asking, “who is that from?”

“It is from Thor, Captain,” he replied, “shall I open up the email for you?”

Nodding, he heaved the shield off his legs and rested it next to his lap, saying, “please.”

Materialising into the void before him, a letter appeared, format and layout remaining intact. Murmuring a thank you, he began to read it, relieved to hear that Thor was okay, as was Jane. However, the grief that underpinned the segment on the loss of his mother was palpable, and Steve knew he would have to find some way to contact Thor. Perhaps through Heimdall, it was worth a try.

They had always gotten along well, him and Thor. He had to offer something, even if it was just measly words. No matter how often they encountered grief, it was an unmanageable beast every time.

He knew that Thor enjoyed signing off every email with an image of him with the person who helped him access and send it. Strangers were bountiful in these letters. But what he did not expect, could never have thought was possible, was to see Bucky. Bucky Barnes, the man he sought and desired for months now, so far but suddenly so close.

He looked ill, face pale and skin sunken, dried and shrivelling. But the smile and the gleam in his eyes, it was real. The amusement that Steve saw was true, he hadn’t forced it upon himself. And under Thor’s hefty arm, he looked small. Not at all as the intimidating Winter Soldier that Steve had fought on the helicarrier. He looked...good.

Beneath the picture, Thor captioned: _ha! This took us an hour to send!! My new friend James also struggles with your electronic mailing system!!!_

Mouth gaped in shock, Steve fell back onto the sofa and blankly looked around. It was Bucky. The man was Bucky, Thor had just confirmed it. He was alive. He was okay. He was there.

Without prompt, Jarvis said, “the email was sent from Manhattan, The Public Library three minutes ago. They have a live feed of the computers, shall I pull them up, Captain?”

“Please,” he responded, eager and not ashamed to show it.

As promised, Jarvis removed the email and replaced it with footage feeding the library. There, in the corner and sat at a computer, hands in his pocket and beanie hanging lowly over his eyebrows, was Bucky. He was okay. Fuck, he was good.

“Shall I prepare a car for you, sir?”

Steve nodded. It was time.

 

* * * *

 

Now, he called it intuition. A Steve sense that was instilled into the veins of his mind, telling him where Steve was or what he was doing. The moment the email was sent, and Thor had left, the nerves shook and rattled noisily, prohibiting him from leaving. Wait, they said, he’s coming.

He should never have stayed; it was too dangerous. Too risky. Too unlike him. (Could he make such bold claims even though he didn’t know who he was?). But he did, so there was nothing he could do to change that. Despite the apprehension, he felt excited. Ready for the confrontation, violence or not.

Steve Rogers had evaded him long enough (was it not the other way around?) to meet was imperative.

And meet they did.

He was stood by the entrance of the library, smoking and staring at the concrete floor, disinterested. Multiple feet passed him, none toward him or at all bothered by his loitering. That was, until one set of feet were.

Boots paused in front of him, jeans tucked into them, and the smell of something sweet and tantalising swept the air. Oh, he smelt ravishing. Taking one last drag, Bucky flicked the cigarette, and blowing smoke to the open air beside them, he pushed himself off the wall and stood as tall he could. Meeting Steve’s gaze, he smiled briefly.

“Took longer than I expected. I’m disappointed Rogers, is chivalry dead?”

Steve smirked. “Traffic. Always has and always will be the bane of my life.”

“Suppose someone should do something about it then,” he said, pushing his chest out as he shuffled. His heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“How about we discuss what over some early dinner?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised and face mischievous, though Bucky could see the anxiety. Steve was never good at hiding himself from Bucky. Some things never change.

He hummed. “What’s in it for me? This seems very you-centric, Steven.”

Shaking his head, almost playfully, Steve looked at him, delighted and unimpressed. Steven was still a sore spot, Bucky deduced. He grinned brightly, feeling his eyes crinkle. “Well, you get to spend some time with your best guy.”

“Oh? And who is my best guy?” Bucky was being a little shit, he knew it. But Steve was awkward and riling him up a bit was necessary. Bucky had earned it. And besides, he didn’t look too put out. Not if the chuckle indicated at something.

“Me,” he said eventually, nodding in omission and confident. “I’m your best guy.”

“That’s- that’s the truth. God honest truth. So, dinner you were saying?” Bucky said, walking up to him, putting his hands deeply into his jacket pockets. If he didn’t, he may do something stupid, such as hold Steve’s hand. That wasn’t his right.

But he needn’t worry, because Steve was always a step ahead of him. Offering his palm, face expectant, he replied, “you tried biryani yet? Oh, it puts boiled rice to shame.”

Accepting the offer, Steve enclosed Bucky’s hand and squeezed gently, reassuring. “Can’t say I have.”

“You will now, south Asian food is a treasure,” Steve said, beaming.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?”

Nothing as it turned out, and they went to a Pakistani restraint, ordering food that intrigued them but also Steve could confirm was delicious. Samosa’s were Bucky’s favourite; the pastry was to die for.

And as they talked whilst eating, he learnt, it didn’t have to be difficult, being with Steve. Where he lacked, Steve would sail steadily, and where _he_ faltered Bucky would lift him. In the end, it was as easy as they could make it, and for that he was grateful. Awkwardness was still evident but, as he reminded himself countless times, there was only way to go from here: up.

They had the rest of their lives to grow. He should savour Steve’s stumbles and the blush that didn’t used to come so quickly. When they were familiar once more, it would come so easily. So, he embedded it in his mind, information as important as his name.

The rest of their life, he thought to himself as he smiled at Steve affectionately from across the table, sounded brilliant.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr:  bountifulsilences   
> twitter:  AwestruckBuck 


End file.
